


The Carnival

by GaleWrites



Category: Carnival of Rust - Poets of the Fall (Music Video)
Genre: Fae Magic, Gen, Spooky, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaleWrites/pseuds/GaleWrites
Summary: When a supernatural carnival comes to town, Becca realizes this is her chance to finally get what she's always wanted
Relationships: Gas mask woman/freedom
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6
Collections: Jukebox 2020





	The Carnival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minutia_R](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/gifts).



> I know this is on the long end of what was requested, but I hope you love it. Read it at your own pace, I can wait if I need to. I'd never even heard of this song before this exchange and the moment I watched the video after getting your letter, I knew that this was the story I had to write

Everyone around knew the Carnival. There were many that made the rounds, with games and rides for people to enjoy, but there was only one that people referred to only as ‘the Carnival’. The name was generally only spoken in whispers, far away from impressionable children who might hear of it and decide it worth the risk.   
  
The Carnival, it was said, could grant a person’s deepest desire, answer any question, provide anything a person could need. There were countless stories of brave or desperate souls entering the Carnival, but the problem was how few people came back out. The price, everyone was assured when they were old enough to hear the tales, was too high for any reasonable individual to pay. They could demand your health or your name, the taste of your favorite food or your memories of your dearest friend. They always knew the steepest price they could demand, and they would not hesitate to demand their payment.   
  
Becca had grown up on these tales in her hometown, told on long winter’s nights and at summer bonfires, but she wasn’t sure if she believed those stories at all, let alone how dire they seemed to be. She was too old to believe in fairy tales anymore, not afraid of the monsters under her bed or in her closet. The Carnival was surely just another one of those myths. After all, she’d never known anyone who’d so much as seen it.   
  
She and everyone she knew in her new life in the city considered themselves quite sensible. They scorned stories of things like the Carnival as rural superstition, and considered themselves above it all. Life went on, work had to be done, and there was no time to waste on frivolities.   
  
At least, that was what everyone said until one morning quite out of nowhere, the Carnival had set itself up in an unused parking lot near the bus depot. The city never sleeps, but somehow no one had seen it set up at all. It was just there at 7 am, just in time to be seen by the bulk of the commuters. Those who’d caught the 6:30 bus were quite startled to hear from that slightly later crop that a carnival had somehow set itself up in that half hour.    
  
The Carnival was a huge setup that took most of the parking lot, with a ferris wheel, a roller coaster, a variety of other rides, and even a surprisingly beautiful fence around the whole thing, with an oversized, inviting gate. It was clear to everyone who saw it that it could not possibly have been set up so quickly. Even the much simpler carnivals took at least a day to get set up and ready for visitors, after all. This one, with it’s ornate fence and variety of tantalizing rides, would have likely taken days if it were a real, normal carnival.

It was the talk of the town and, despite herself, Becca couldn’t help see it as an opportunity. There was indeed something she wanted more than anything in the world, something she would gladly risk herself to achieve. And… even though it was probably all bullshit, it couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?

Despite being a nonbeliever, Becca knew that things like this had to be approached with a certain amount of ceremony. Those who ran the carnival were said to demand respect. In the stories, the heroes always dressed in their best. Becca didn’t have much, but she did have one black dress she’d bought when she first moved to the city, hoping to have the chance to wear it out. No such opportunities had presented themselves, but, as it was the nicest thing she owned, it would work well for this. 

She also needed intention, to signify her wish to the Carnival. A warrior should wear armor or go armed, a lover with a token from their object of affection and she… well, she put on the ballet shoes she’d bought herself for christmas in a fit of nostalgia, remembering how badly she’d wanted to be a ballerina as a child. After a moment’s hesitation, she opted not to put on make up, but to don an old gas mask instead. She did not want to change herself, she just wanted to be always seen as a woman. 

Looking at herself in the mirror in this odd outfit, she considered what it would mean for her if this worked. She wanted everyone to just see her as a woman. Would that work on everyone? Would she be able to see her family again, visit childhood friends she’d missed? She hadn’t seen any of them since she’d left her hometown to move to the city five years ago. It would be nice to see them again on her own terms.

She’d left chasing what had proven to be an impossible dream. All through her childhood, people had spoken disparagingly about ‘those city folks’. According to them, city folk would accept anyone, even ‘men in dresses’ and ‘unnatural affections’. It had sounded like heaven to Becca, who just wanted to get away from a world where everyone insisted she was a man. The truth, that nowhere was free from hate, had been a tough pill to swallow.

Becca tried not to think too hard about the bitter disappointment her move had been. She’d sworn never to do anything based purely on hope again. But tonight… well, tonight it felt right to hope. It was all that kept her going through the absolute fear. There was an odd sort of lightness to her now that she’d committed to this insane plan, confident that she was doing the best thing she could do for herself.

She’d felt the same way when she moved to the city. She hoped that this would work out better than that had.

The city streets were empty, even the roughest city folk tending to make their way home once the bars closed for the night. Many more, she knew, had stayed inside to avoid the dangerous thing that had sprung up this morning, for fear of giving into temptation and peeking through the gates. She’d forgotten how it felt to be properly alone, memories of quiet walks through woods miles away from any living person having long since faded in favor of a city that always seemed to be bustling, knowing there were probably at least a dozen people outside her window at any given hour. She was surprised to find she’d missed the solitude. It was her silent companion for the long walk to the Carnival.

Soon enough, she found herself at her destination, hearing the faint sounds of carnival music and chatter echoing through the slightly cracked gates. It sounded too normal at first, but, listening hard, she found that there was something slightly off about it. Something tinny and artificial, like a recording playing over bad speakers. And, she realized, the mechanical noises of the rides didn’t quite match the movement she could see peeking over the walls. She shuddered and stepped through the gate before she could lose her nerve

Once inside, the Carnival was still and silent. All the rides were motionless, the music was gone, and there seemed to be no one present to chatter at all. Worriedly, she turned to look behind her and was reassured to see that the gate was still open. She could still leave, if she wished. 

Becca looked around for any indication of what to do next, having expected the process to be a little more straightforward. All she could see was an old fortune telling machine, maybe ten feet in front of her. The ‘man’ inside seemed to be beckoning her forward. She hadn’t thought to bring any money, but she stepped forward to examine the machine anyway. As she did, she heard the sound of several coins sliding into the coin return.  
  
“... Are these for me?” She asked, feeling certain that there would be some kind of answer. The man in the box let his beckoning hand drop and straightened into a more neutral pose. Becca got the impression he was waiting for her to do something. 

She checked the coin return and found five strange old coins. They didn’t look like any currency she’d ever seen, and, while they were tarnished and dirty, seemed to be made of gold. She took them out and weighed them in her palm for a moment before inserting one into the coin slot.  
  
The man in the box smiled, and a little fortune came out. Becca opened it, expecting a normal vague ‘fortune’ and a list of lucky numbers. Instead, she found a note in curling silver ink on thick, yellowed paper, folded around a tarot card.   
  
Looking first at the note, she found that it somehow appeared to be handwritten in a gleaming silvery ink, with a simple message

_These coins will buy your heart’s desire_

_A pittance for what it can inspire_

_But spend them wisely_

_Else you pay a much higher price_

_A coin for the future,_

_A coin for the past_

_One for compassion_

_One for the fight,_

_and One for the life to be lived_

She read the note a couple times over, taking it in and trying to commit it to memory. She had already spent one of the coins to get this note. She supposed that could be the ‘coin for the future’, or possibly the ‘one for the life to be lived’. Either way, this coin felt like it was wisely spent. She now had hints as to what she should do with the rest.

Only then did Becca take a closer look at the tarot card in her hand. It was the Star. A little girl sat in a field looking up at the first star in the sky. She wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but the picture reminded her of all the nights she’d sat out in a field just like that to make a wish on the first star. She had wished for fame and fortune, to be a famous actress or musician, to see the world and above all, to get out of her hometown and find somewhere she could be herself. Much like the carnival itself, she hadn’t truly believed those wishes would work either. At least not once she was old enough to understand what she was really wishing for.

Becca wanted to believe that it meant she’d been right to hope for so much over the years, but she had to admit it mostly left her confused. For the moment, she decided to worry about the immediate problem of what to do with her remaining four coins and put the rest behind her.  
  
While she’d been thinking, the carnival around her had started to come to life. She could see lights and movement from what looked like game booths off a ways ahead of her, and a pair of musicians had appeared and started to play somewhat ominous music. Directly ahead, a long, elegant dining table had appeared, with a man and a woman seated at opposite ends. There was something… unsettling about that table. She decided that despite the ominous music, the musicians were her best bet.

“Good evening, madam.” One of the musicians said to her, still playing his cello.

“Or is it good morning?” The other asked, also continuing to play.  
  
She nodded politely at them, knowing they could not see her face through her mask. “I suppose it’s both.” Becca replied after a moment’s thought. “Good evening and morning to you both as well.”   
  
The two cello players looked at each other for a moment before replying. “You’re a brave one, coming here.” One told her.   
  
“What would a pretty girl like you need badly enough to come to a place like this so late at night?” Asked the other

She frowned. “Do I have to say? I don’t know who you are, and I’ve always heard wishes won’t come true if you speak them out loud.”  
  
The cellists smiled in unison. “A wise decision, truly. You’ll want to keep things close to the chest here.”   
  
The other nodded. “ A friendly word of advice, to a friendly young woman. Folks here won’t do anything for free. If it seems that they are, ask them the price. And don’t give anything away, either.”   
  
“But you’ve just given me that advice for free.” Becca pointed out.   
  
“Well how do you think the likes of us ended up chained to the Carnival?” The first cellist told her with an exasperated look at the other.

“She’s done well so far. She’s earned a bit of advice.” The other replied defensively.  
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Becca interjected, sensing their disagreement might only escalate if she didn’t. “Thank you, for your advice and your greeting.”

The cellists nodded. “Good luck to you.” The second cellist told her with a hopeful smile.  
  
“May you have better luck than we did.” The first agreed.   
  
Becca nodded politely again and stepped away, weighing that encounter in her mind. Did the coins count as ‘giving nothing away’? Surely she was meant to spend them, as the note implied?

“Miss?” The first cellist called after her. “You dropped your card.”  
  
Becca looked down and saw another tarot card on the ground. She picked it up and turned to tell the musicians she hadn’t dropped it, but they were nowhere to be seen. She stumbled a little bit, shocked by their sudden disappearance, and sighed. Hopefully she hadn’t gotten them into any trouble for giving her that hint.   
  
There was nothing for it but to take their advice to heart and have a better look at the card they’d pointed her toward. It was labeled ‘Nine of Swords,’ and showed a troubled looking woman laying in bed staring up at swords dangling ominously overhead. One was embedded in the mattress inches from her head, and Becca couldn’t help but think it had maybe woken her up. This card was clearly far more ominous than the first, and she couldn’t help but feel like it resembled her current circumstance. The Carnival would cut her to pieces if she made one wrong move, and yet hadn’t it woken her up from the nightmare she’d been letting herself live?

Becca sighed and stashed the card with the first, then took another look around. The pair at the table were still there, the woman petting a lizard of some kind with one hand and beckoning her forward with the other. The man, who seemed to be eating fire, seemed to be ignoring her. She hesitantly approached the woman, staying well away from the fire eater.

“Welcome, child.” The woman told her. Now that Becca was closer, she noticed that the woman’s dress was strangely similar to her own. She wanted to believe it was a coincidence, but knew that it probably was not. The implications of that were unsettling enough she decided it’d be best not to think too hard about it.  
  
“Hello.” Becca greeted her. “Is that your pet?”   
  
The woman nodded slowly, smiling. “He is, yes. A lovely creature, too. Would you like to pet him?”

She started to say yes, curious about what it would be like to pet a reptile, but stopped and considered the advice she’d been given. “Thank you, but I don’t think so. I’m supposed to be earning my wish, after all. Probably not a good time to stop and pet animals.”

The woman nodded again, and Becca thought there was approval on her face. “Entirely reasonable. A Quest that would bring you here must be important.”  
  
“I think so, yeah.” Becca agreed.

The woman gestured around the carnival with her free hand. “I’m sure you must have a plan, yes? This is a large carnival.”  
  
She tried to look more confident than she felt. “Yes, of course.”   
  
“Mm, but is that wise?” The woman countered sharply. “This is not your world.”   
  
“... What do you mean? Whatever world a person finds themself in, they need a plan to succeed, right?”

The woman shook her head and gently shifted the lizard to her shoulder. “You will see soon enough, or you will fail.”  
  
Becca frowned. “I suppose so.”   
  
“But here, you have earned this even so.” Using a wand she definitely had not been holding a moment before, the woman drew a line of fire up her arm, then pulled a card out of the flames before handing it to Becca.   
  
“I… thank you.” Becca replied, taking the card. She nearly dropped it again when she realized it wasn’t even warm.

“It is what you have earned in making it this far.” The woman replied patiently. “Have a look. It’s best to listen when you are handed a sign.”  
  
Becca looked down at the new tarot card. It was labelled ‘the High Priestess’. On it was the woman she’d just spoken to, in a vast library surrounded by books. She was in an armchair by a window, petting her lizard, the books all neglected around her. 

She looked back up, only to find the woman, table, and fire eating companion all gone. She sighed, having been more prepared for the disappearance this time.   
  
“What now?” She muttered to herself, looking around again. She could still see the game booths in the distance, but the entrance to the roller coaster was now just a bit ahead, on the left of the path. Becca approached it cautiously. She’d never been particularly fond of roller coasters. She would deal with this one if she had to, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea.

The coaster, in contrast to everything else so far, seemed comfortingly mundane. There was the little rope fence setup to organize a (currently nonexistent) line, a short metal fence to keep people away from the tracks, the little operator’s booth, a gate with a coin slot. She pulled out a coin and considered that gate. It could be a trap or distraction, she knew. Not everything she was going to find would be what she was meant to spend the coins on. At the same time, the words of the woman with the lizard echoed in her brain. ‘It’s best to listen when you are handed a sign’. Was this a sign?

But then, she wasn’t even sure if she should trust that woman. The cellists had warned her that no one would give her free advice. Possibly the woman had been trying to confuse or mislead her. She should rely on her own instincts and stop worrying so much about what the mystery woman meant. Maybe that was what the card was trying to tell her. The woman on it had been surrounded by so much outside information but she was focused on what she thought was important.  
  
Becca pulled the note out of her bag and read it over again. 

_A coin for the future,_

_A coin for the past_

_One for compassion_

_One for the fight,_

_and One for the life to be lived_

This roller coaster was clearly not a coin for compassion and probably not ‘one for the life to be lived’, but it could be ‘for the fight’, she supposed. She’d have to take another look around for clues.

Becca looked over the rope fence, which was made of the same kind of rope as her family had always used around the farm. She looked over the operator’s booth but the door was locked and she couldn't see anyone inside of it. She looked over the fence and the gate, but there was nothing there to find. It was only after this that it occurred to her to give the roller coaster inside the fence a better look. 

It was… odd. Despite still obviously being a roller coaster, the train itself was very clearly the hayride she’d gone on with her best friends when she was 17. There was the Henderson’s tractor, paint faded in places and with that very distinctive scratch along the side from when Andrew had taken it for a joyride the year before. Hooked to the back was that huge wagon, loose hay covering the bed and half collapsed hay bales lining the sides for people to sit. There were a few leaves mixed in with the hay, having been tracked in by various people or having fallen in during the earlier rides, there was no way to tell.

She remembered that night like it was yesterday, and there was no doubt that this hayride roller coaster was plucked straight from those memories. She took a deep, steadying breath, put her ‘coin for the past’ into the slot, and stepped through the gate and onto the hayride. Unlike the last time, she was alone, with nothing but her memories for company.

Those memories, however, were powerful. Even as the hayride turned back into a roller coaster and took her along it’s many hills and turns, all she could focus on was the past. Times when things had gone wrong, times when things had gone right, times when she had lashed out to avoid being hurt, times when she’d run away because it was better than risking rejection.

By the time the ride pulled back into the station, she was crying but determined. This reminder of how much she had lost, how much had been taken from her, hardened her resolve. She would do this, and she would not let the world take so much from her in the future.

Becca was by now unsurprised to find another card on the seat next to her. Labeled ‘Eight of Cups’, it featured a woman who looked remarkably like Becca facing away and starting to climb a ladder that led up past the top of the card. She was confident what this one meant- she had to stand strong and keep going, if she wanted to succeed here.

She stepped out and onto the path again, feeling energized despite how late it had gotten. Immediately to her left were the cellists again, playing their ominous song and looking up at her hopefully. Becca noticed now what she hadn’t before, a hat between them with one solitary coin shining from within. There was a sign ‘will play for food’. They were already playing, of course, but the note flashed in her mind. ‘One for compassion’. They had shown compassion for her, giving her advice when they hadn’t had to and probably weren’t supposed to. She ought to do the same for them. Reaching for another of her dwindling supply of coins she dropped it into the hat with a smile. They both smiled back at her and switched their song to an energetic, triumphant song. The one who’d helped her before winked at her and mouthed ‘good luck.’

Becca would’ve liked to stay a while and listen, but she knew that she had to keep going. With their song urging her forward, she nodded politely at them and turned to go. She was confident, though she couldn’t say how, that she had to go to the game booth she’d kept seeing. Thankfully, it was still visible ahead. She started toward it, walking so fast she was almost running. There was a sense of urgency in the air, though she couldn’t say whether it was her own eagerness or some external sense of time running out.

She found the booth to be a relatively small thing, only wide enough for two people to play at once at most. The sign said ‘break for freedom’, and at the back of the booth were a collection of plates, each decorated with a vaguely hypnotic, swirling pattern. Seemingly running the booth was a young man in a top hat, with a predatory, insincere smile.   
  
“Five balls for a coin, ma’am.” He told her as she looked the set up over.   
  
Becca eyed him thoughtfully. “And how many plates do I have to break to win?”

“Four. But if you don’t get all four the first time, you can always give me another coin and keep trying. It’s four breaks per play, not per set of five.”

She smiled at him, wondering if he knew about her time on the high school baseball team. “And what’s the prize?”  
  
He looked a bit surprised and gestured at the sign. “Freedom, of course. Says so right there.” 

She nodded and put a coin on the counter. “Alright then. I’ll start with one coin.”  
  
He grinned at her and placed five balls on the counter in front of her.   
  
Becca smiled sweetly at the man in the top hat and threw four balls in a row, smashing a plate with each throw. She’d been the baseball team’s star pitcher for several years. It was true that she hadn’t played in almost a decade, but it really wasn’t that hard a throw, and she still had the muscle memory needed to accomplish it.

She started to pick up the fifth ball, only to find that it had turned into another card. She looked at it briefly, finding an image of a woman holding tightly to one small sapling among many, labeled ‘Nine of Wands.’

The man in the top hat continued to smile, but it had grown a little strained. He reached under the counter and pulled out a beautiful ceramic doll. “Well done! Here’s your prize, then.”  
  
“I thought my prize was freedom.” She replied, a bit confused.

“She’s a symbol of the freedom you want most.” He replied. “Keep her safe, and you will have your wish.”  
  
Becca took the doll, exactly the sort of thing she would’ve loved to have as a little girl, and couldn’t resist the urge to hold it protectively close. “That’s it? I have my wish?” She asked to confirm.

“That’s it. Now you just have to get out of here safely.”  
  
She nodded. “Thank you, then.”   
  
“But first…” He handed her yet another card. “Your card.”

“What’s the deal with these cards, anyway?”

Another man peeked out of the booth next door. “I’ll tell you, if you like.” 

She looked from him to the card she’d just been handed (‘Ace of Wands’, featuring a triumphant looking woman holding a stick aloft). “How do I know I can trust what you say?”

“Oh, you’d be paying for the interpretation.” He told her, smiling. “It would not be a fair exchange if I lied to you about it.”

She turned back to the man who’d given her the doll, but he ignored her, instead making a show of putting her coin in his cash register.

“I was told this was it. That I could go, now.” Becca told the second man, stepping over to his booth.  
  
“Well, that depends on what you want out of this.” He smirked. “I could give you certainty.”   
  
Becca considered that for a moment, then shook her head. “I didn’t come here for certainty. I came here for freedom.”   
  
The second man scowled. “You would be a fool to turn away from this.”

“Mmm, I have what I came for.” Becca insisted, now very glad she’d said no.

He pulled out another card. Becca eyed it curiously. “What good is freedom if you don’t know how to use it to your advantage?”

On impulse, Becca snatched the card out of his hand, confident that it, too, was meant for her. “It’s great for being able to ignore creepy guys like you who think I owe them something.” She told him, then turned and ran for the gate. 

Glancing at the card as she bolted down the wide open path, she found herself, in a suit, flexing a bicep and smirking, on a card titled ‘the Magician.’ She laughed a little as she neared the gate, the irony of this man literally trying to make her pay for a badass version of herself seeming fairly comical now that she was well away from him.

The gate was mercifully still open, and she stepped through it still clutching her doll. It felt almost like a miracle to be actually leaving safely, her prize in tow. She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it would really work, even now. Stepping back into the real world, watching the first hint of sunrise start to glow on the horizon, the whole situation felt less and less real. 

Standing on the sidewalk wearing a gas mask, a fancy dress, ballet slippers, and clutching a doll, she realized how ridiculous she looked, and started to hurry home, hoping no one would see her. She loosened her grip on the doll, hoping to look a little more like she was just taking the thing home for someone and less like it was hers.

As she did, she felt the last coin fall out of her bag and onto the ground. She bent to pick it up, smiling a little when she saw it had become another note wrapped around one last tarot card. 

The card showed her, wearing an amazing sundress and walking confidently through a crowd. It was captioned ‘Strength’, which felt very appropriate to Becca. The note, she was surprised to find, had only two words in Latin. Half remembered high school Latin classes came back to her in a rush as she read them. ‘Cor Cordis’. If she remembered right, it meant ‘heart of the heart.’

Becca looked from the note, to that last card in her hand, and smiled. It was like a promise. One that she had paid for in work, stress, and fear. Suddenly eager for what the day would bring, she rushed home with a grin, ready to make the most of her new life.


End file.
